I’m wrong a lot. It comes with the territory of being a man, and subsequently, a husband and father. In those three roles, I’d say I’m batting a solid .176. Definitely not all star material. And I’m wrong about all kinds of things. The kind of bird that’s nesting in the tree in our front yard. What my kids want for dinner. What my wife wants to watch on Netflix. I could fill a book with the list of things that I’m constantly wrong about that would make War and Peace look like a commercial break. Probably the only subjects that I’m typically right about are ‘90s sitcom trivia and beer. I’m right about beer. Even if you disagree with me, I’m right.

So I was kind of pissed when I took my first sip of Oskar Blues’ Passion Fruit Pinner and discovered that I was wrong yet again. You see, I love Pinner. That’s my go-to session beer at the moment. So I was pissed when Oskar Blues messed with one of my favorite beers by putting passion fruit in it. I’m not a beer purist by any means, but I’m getting a little worn out by all of the fruit that’s going into IPAs these days. A great IPA doesn’t need a dose of apricots or mandarin oranges or passion fruit. A great IPA is plenty fruity on its own.

So I thought for sure I’d do my due diligence as a journalist, take a sip of this fruity beer and pour the rest on my herb garden (basil loves beer!). I think I even said to myself, “I’m not going to like this beer,” as I cracked open the can.

And I’ll be damned if I wasn’t wrong again. I like this beer. A lot. There’s all kinds of fruity goodness going on with the nose and the sip is bursting with passion fruit flavor, but not in an annoying “look at me!” kind of way. The fruit works seamlessly with what Pinner already has going on. It’s as if Pinner and passion fruit were lovers, separated by war or economics or wild horses and are finally back together. This beer is fruity; it’s thirst quenching; it’s incredibly sessionable at 4.9%. I might even go so far as to say it’s better than the standard Pinner. Maybe.

One thing’s for certain—being wrong never felt so right.